Chapter 64 – Myrin
MYRIN
The pounding of boots down the corridor had me bristling. If some fool thought it wise to charge into my office?—
The door slammed open.
Dain.
The look on his face was enough. Pale, breath ragged, eyes cutting through me like a blade.
“Azaria.”
I didn’t need more. My hand went straight to the satchel under my desk—the bag I kept for one person and one person only. Stocked for these godsdamn fevers, the ones no ordinary healer’s kit could touch.
“Let’s go,” I snapped, and we were already running. By the time we burst into her wing, I knew what we’d find.
Azaria lay on the sofa, skin white as chalk, damp with sweat. Kalias was crouched over her, bare hands braced against her chest, the faint pulse of shifter magic rippling through his arms. His focus was absolute, brow furrowed, jaw tight.
I dropped beside him, my own magic unwinding, precise threads slipping into her body. Diagnostic first, stabilize second.
“Dain. Out. Door shut.”
He froze. I didn’t bother looking at him. “Do it.”
A heartbeat. Then the door closed.
I let my magic weave, but Kalias was already frowning, nostrils flaring as if scent alone gave him a clearer picture than any spell I could craft.
“This is not the first time,” he stated.
“No. It isn’t.”
His head dipped. “Then you already know she carries something inside her.”
“Tell me what you sense.”
He was quiet long enough that I knew he was trying to be precise. Finally: “An old binding. Blood-based. Woven tight and deep. It does not just sit in her—it coils through her chest, presses against her organs. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”
My jaw clenched. “We’ve been calling it the void. That’s the name we gave it when nothing else explained her fevers.”
“Void fits. It has been holding for years, but it is failing. I can smell the cracks. Her magic leaks through in pulses—that is what drives the sickness. The fevers, the fainting, the weakness. Spillage she cannot contain.”
I shifted closer, eyes narrowing on the faint glow between his palms. “It’s growing worse. Faster than before.”
“Yes.” His voice dropped, almost a growl.
“I can flush some of the spillover. Ease her symptoms and buy her time.
But the binding itself—“ He shook his head.
“It is layered, knot after knot tied on top of each other. And there is another male woven into it. His magic is threaded through the binding.”
My breath caught. “Another male? You’re certain?”
“Positive. This is not a solitary seal. It is tethered. Whoever laid it still feels it, maybe even controls it. If I cut the wrong thread, he will know. And she—“ He broke off, clenching his teeth. “I do not know what would happen to her.”
The strap of my satchel dug into my palm.
Years of watching her collapse. Years of us patching symptoms while never finding the cause. And the truth had been sitting there all along, buried under someone else’s leash.
Azaria Sylvenhart, the Captain Without Magic—had magic bound inside her the whole damn time. And it was clawing to get out.
I worked my threads along her chest, testing the flare leaking through. Raw, acidic—no wonder her body never healed right. Years of spillage burned her from the inside.
“It’s torn her up,” I said flatly. “Scar tissue where it doesn’t belong. Chronic inflammation. Immune collapse. It’s damaged her womb. Her body buckles every time it spikes.”
Kalias’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t contradict me.
“I can clear the spillage,” I said. “Burn it out, repair what damage I can. But the binding itself is beyond me.”
“Leave the binding to me.” Kalias replied. “I can see the cracks. I will patch them layer by layer. It will not break the seal, but it will stop the bleeding.”
“Fine. You seal it. I’ll sweep the leak.”
We moved in tandem. His magic pressed deep into the binding, instincts guiding his hands as he wove over the fractures.
Mine followed the current that spilled loose, drawing it out of her bloodstream, peeling back the inflammation it left in its wake.
Every thread I pulled made her breathing easier, her pulse steadier. Bit by bit, the fire eased.
By the time Kalias’s jaw finally unclenched, nearly an hour had passed. My hands ached, and despite his composure, the drain showed in the tightness around his eyes.
“The worst of the cracks have been sealed,” he said. “She will not collapse again tonight.”
I exhaled through my nose. “I’ll run a rejuvenating spell. Push her system to recover from what we burned out.”
Kalias shifted his hands lower, pressing flat against her sternum. “And I will lay one of mine. It is not healing but a settling of a sort. It will quiet the strain.”
I watched the way his magic moved: thicker, warmer, not clinical precision but something deeper, like sinking into silence after battle. My work rebuilt. His gave peace.
“Do it.”
His eyes shut, and the moment his spell took root, her whole body softened. Her muscles unclenched, breath evened, face no longer pinched with pain. She looked like she was simply sleeping.
I let the silence hold for a beat. Then: “You swear to me. What you saw tonight doesn’t leave this room.”
His head snapped up, eyes flashing amber. “She is dying,” he growled, voice dropping into something not entirely human. The wolf was close to the surface, bristling.
I didn’t flinch. “She is bound. And so are you. I swore an oath to keep my patients’ secrets, even when it tears me apart to do it. Now you share that oath.”
He bared his teeth, a low rumble vibrating in his chest.
I leaned closer. “It is her wish that this stays contained. Not yours. Not mine. Hers. And until she says otherwise, you will keep it. You will do as I say, wolf.”
The growl lingered before he finally wrenched his gaze away, shoulders heaving once, twice, before the rumble died. “Fine,” he ground out.
I sat back, wiping sweat from my temple.
Healer’s oath. My patients’ secrets died with me. The first rule I ever carved into my bones. But this wasn’t a fever I was hiding. This was a blood binding. Another man’s leash wrapped around a Captain of Kareth. If he pulled it tight, she could be gone in a heartbeat.
I had two options. Stay silent—I protect her wishes, leave her exposed, or speak—I betray her trust, risk her command being stripped. There was no clean answer. Not without knowing who cast it, how to break it, and why it was failing now.
I’d hold this secret a little longer.
Kalias remained kneeling, not leaving her side. His spell still coursed steadily through her.
“She had magic all along,” I muttered.
“Yes,” his voice was low. “I suspected something was different about her, but I never had the chance to confirm it.”
I glanced at Azaria. “How long does she have?”
Kalias was thoughtful before answering. “The binding has been there for years. It must have been placed when her magic was first awakening, when it was still blooming. Over time, her power grew and pushed against the spell until it cracked. Now it cannot contain her anymore.”
Bound as a child. Did her father know? He must have.
“I used some of my earth magic to patch the binding,” Kalias continued, “but if another surge comes?—“
“She won’t survive it,” I finished.
He inclined his head. “She will not.”
My jaw tightened. “Can you identify who bound her?”
“I would recognize him,” Kalias said simply. “I have his scent memorized.”
Good. If we ever found the bastard who did this, Kalias would know.
“Thank you, Kalias.”
He dipped his head.
I rose, gathering my things, and pulled open the door. Dain stood there, pale and shaking, pacing like a caged animal. His eyes locked on me, desperate.
“She—“
“She’s sleeping,” I said firmly.
Relief washed across his face so sharply it almost broke him. His shoulders sagged, one hand bracing against the wall.
“Thank the gods,” he breathed. “I felt—the bond—“ He stopped, jaw working. “I thought I’d lost her.”
“You didn’t. She’s stable. She’ll wake when her body is ready.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“She’ll be all right, Dain. Kalias is skilled. You were right to bring him into the squad.”
His eyes shifted past my shoulder to the silver-haired shifter still kneeling inside.
“I’ll check on her in the morning,” I added.
“Thank you, Myrin,” Dain said quietly.
“Thank the shifter,” I replied, and left the wing.